


Holding Back; Giving In

by elebuu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blow Job, Cid x WoL, Other, Rarepair, WHY DON'T Y'ALL GET ON THIS MANS, absolutely shameless smut, crossposting from tumblr, i wrote this 2 years ago and never shared it, unspecified gender WoL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elebuu/pseuds/elebuu
Summary: He kept his feelings to himself. He was going to keep them to himself forever, until and unless you sought him yourself.





	Holding Back; Giving In

_He holds your head gently in his wide, firm palms, looking down to meet your eyes, when he can, when you can chance to look heavensward._

_Soft sighs and humble pleas. He would never have asked, until you offered first.  He traces with his callused fingertips from the wing of your jaw to the back of your neck, pressing each one up through your hair.  No, never would he have dared ask for this, his desires be damned._

_But you came forward, in one of an infinite number of moments of the snare-tight tension between you.  You looked directly into those piercing, clever blue eyes, the ones full up with kindness and humour, and his heart skipped a beat. It raced so far forward as to nearly stop._

_And then you were almost bloody chaste about it. On your tiptoes, you planted a kiss on his cheek, just below the arc of the bone; but it was your hand that spoke further. You placed it palm-down on the front of his hip.  You hooked two of your fingers and ran them slowly, painfully, up and down the curve of his hipbone._

_When you met his gaze again, you swept the hand over the front of his belt, and your eyes softened, and his smoldered. You had asked him first. He knew._

_Now he stood, leaning against a rafter, shudders running through him as your kiss deepens, then folds around him.  He gasps, his hands loosening in your hair, until you torment him a little worse. You retreat to the very tip of him, and he hardens further against the slick of letting him go. His breathing is heavy, the large brass pendant rising and falling on his bared breast._

_Your eyes drift from his panting face, the longer stray lock of soft, white hair sticking to a line of sweat that has broken at his temple, to the vulnerable and impassioned offering in front of you. You feel it twitch as you only barely kiss its peak, and something savage dawns upon you. You want it to suffer. You want to watch it redden and blush, and grow, and pulse.  You want to watch it struggle._

_The engineer looses a ragged moan as you begin again. Gods above and gods below, the taste of him drives you to lap at him, flicking and sliding around him.  Your tongue passes over the burning silk of his flesh, vessels rising to cord the terrain.  In the heat of your movements, you feel the force of his spine clenching to restrain himself, his moans louder, his pleading incinerated in faster, ragged breaths.  Silk.  Leather.  An inexplicable essence of rose. Something warmer, harsher, belonging only to him.  They fall upon your palate in turn, and your own hunger grows._

_It is only when you have incensed both of you, when you have driven him into a fever, that the hands at the back of your head tighten, his fingertips clawing at you, tugging at your hair.  The sounds you are summoning from the depths of his lungs and the bottom of his heart crawl toward screams.  He fills your mouth so completely that your own moans are the reverberating whine of breaking earth in the distance.  It overwhelms him._

_A strangled, haggard, youthful song screams from him.  You slip loving hands down his bottom and cup them at the back of his thighs, as his molten, shooting, weeping floods your lips, your mouth. You drink of his seed as of a sacred fountain. It spills and spills, and in your rapture you accept every drop._

_When he is finally spent, you withdraw with a kiss, and he kneels down to you, trembling.  He has forgotten his shyness, and with his hands now cupped firmly at your elbows, he dives into a deep and powerful kiss.  It steals the breath from you.  When he releases you, those impossible blue eyes are warm and full to the brim with the gratitude he is lost for words to speak.  The second kiss is softer, gentler, and it lasts, it seems, for a thousand years. The bristles of his moustache and the scruff of his beard lightly graze the peak and corners of your lips._

_As you fasten his belt and pull closed the lapels of his coat, he leans toward your ear and whispers the words he has only to speak for you._

_~_


End file.
